


Quietude

by haawk



Series: before my road leads back to you [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:28:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haawk/pseuds/haawk
Summary: time for a haircut from fereldan's foremost barber. a lot of blushing ensues.
Relationships: Alistair/Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: before my road leads back to you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033299
Kudos: 1





	Quietude

Alistair sighs as he begins to undress. It’s not often they camp near a large enough body of water to bathe, and even less often the water is clean. When he dips his toes in, he shivers; the water is very, _very_ cold. As soon as its deep enough, he ducks his head under, wanting to get out of the freezing water as quickly as possible.

As he begins to wash, he notices his hair is long enough to cover his eyes now, and even longer in the back. _Suppose a few months on the run will make you forget about scheduling a haircut,_ he thinks. Not trusting himself to do it, he wonders which of his companions would cut it for him. Sten’s braids and Zevran’s long tresses are a no-go, Morrigan would probably stab him in the neck with the scissors, and it would only encourage Wynne’s mother-henning (which he will never admit to liking). That only left Leliana and Katriel, meaning it _really_ only left Katriel. Who he may have a bit of a crush on. Miniscule, really. Hardly worth mentioning. Well, it wouldn’t be worth mentioning if he didn’t think that she maybe liked him back.

After he dries off and dresses, Alistair picks his way through the underbrush back to camp. It was a perfect summer evening, and he can almost imagine there isn’t a Blight or grasping tyrant looking to kill them. Almost.

Katriel is the first thing he sees as he walks into the clearing they’ve camped in. She’s sitting with Leliana and Zevran by the fire, talking animatedly. She catches his eye as he comes near and smiles up at him—her special, just-for-Alistair smile, of course—and he hopes she can’t see him blushing as he smiles back. _Maker, she’s beautiful_. She pats the log beside her, a silent invitation to join the three of them. Alistair sits, enjoying the companionship that he’s never experienced much of before.

Katriel has been bragging about Denerim, as any good Ferelden would. For their part, Leliana and Zevran are trying not to look outright disgusted. Alistair chimes in occasionally to talk about what he remembers from visiting as a child, but he’s mostly content listening to Katriel. Her watches her fondly, quietly wondering at his—and all of Fereldan’s—good fortune that she’s his fellow Grey Warden. Leliana catches his eye and inclines her head toward Katriel, giving him a meaningful look. Alistair blushes, but for once, doesn’t feel the familiar waves of self-consciousness come over him. He gives her a little smirk and shrugs, which makes Leliana grin.

After dinner, Katriel volunteers herself and Alistair to clean up. As they load up the dishes to take to the stream, he sees Zevran fork over a pouch of gold to Leliana, looking uncharacteristically sour. Leliana curtsies to him and flounces away, winking at Alistair as she passes. _A bet? Were they betting on him and Katriel?_ He’s almost scandalized, but thinks better of it when he remembers both Zevran and Leliana’s professions; of course _they_ noticed something was going on. Choosing to forget about it, he follows Katriel down to the water.

\--

“Your hair’s getting long.”

Alistair glances up to see Katriel looking at him from the other side of the stream. He reaches up to pat his hair somewhat self-consciously. “Is it really?” Katriel nods. “Well, now that I’m publicly playing the role of rebel bastard prince, I thought I might look the part. You know, it’s not often you see a noble with short hair—I wonder if there’s some secret rule.”

Katriel tips her head back and forth, contemplating that. Almost to herself, she mutters, “Mmm, Vaughan had pretty short hair.”

“What?”

She looks up at Alistair, “What?”

Deciding that he probably doesn’t want to know who Vaughan is, he says, “Ah, never mind.” They’re quiet for a little while, Katriel apparently _very_ focused on cleaning out the dishes Bodahn has graciously loaned their ragtag group. Alistair can’t help but wonder what Katriel thinks of his hair. “Do you—does my hair—does it look okay?”

She looks up and examines his face scrutinizingly, almost embarrassingly so. Just before he decides its too much and looks away, her expression clears and she grins at him. “Well, you definitely look like a rebel prince. A little scruffy and, uh, feral, perhaps?” At his dumbfounded and defeated expression, Katriel laughs, “No, no, you’re very handsome, I promise-” Alistair’s eyes widen as he processes the compliment, but Katriel is already breezing past it, “-but if you ever want it shorter, I used to give haircuts to my whole family.”

“Yes, please.” He’s answering almost before she’s done speaking. Katriel looks a bit surprised at his eagerness, but smiles and nods, promising to get some scissors after they’re done washing up.

\--

Katriel walks back into camp, making a beeline for Wynne and hoping that sewing scissors work as well on hair as they do on textile. She plops down on the ground next to Wynne, giving her a winning smile as Wynne side-eyes her. Without putting down her book, she sighs, “What do you need, dear?”

“Can I borrow your scissors?” At Wynne’s surprised face, Katriel adds, “Not for anything nefarious; just giving Alistair a haircut.”

Wynne gives her an appraising look. “Alistair, hmm?” Katriel rolls her eyes, but can’t quite hide the blush that rises on her face. “Only teasing, dear. Let me check in my tent.”

\--

All the warning Alistair has for Katriel’s return is a slight rustling in the brush before she’s sprinting back to him, scissors held haphazardly with a terrifying nonchalance. She bounds over to him with a huge grin, snipping the scissors a few times for good measure. “Seeing your lack of safety measures while _literally running_ with scissors, I might just be good on the haircut.”

Katriel laughs, “Oh, don’t worry! I’ve never cut anyone; well, I snipped Soris’ ear once, but you shouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Oddly enough, that story makes me feel even less confident.” Despite his words, Alistair obediently sits down before a stump when Katriel motions for him to.

As Katriel sits down, she asks, “Could you take your shirt off?”

Alistair whips his head around in shock. “What? Why? Why would I need to do that?”

Katriel tries not to laugh at his expression, her only tell being her smile and slight waver in her voice. “I’m not going to ogle you; I was trying to stop you from having hair down your shirt.” When Alistair silently stares for a few more moments, her smile drops and she lowers her voice, “You don’t have to. I didn’t—whatever is most comfortable for you is perfect.”

“No, no, it’s fine! I just—it’s not every day a beautiful woman asks you to take your shirt off, is all.” Katriel rolls her eyes at his flirting, but he feels a little smug about the flare of color on her cheeks. He stands to take off his shirt, noticing that Katriel is pointedly looking away from him, and sits back down. She fusses with his hair little before she starts to cut it, humming a tune as she does.

Alistair tries to start up a conversation every so often, but Katriel’s focus on his haircut is absolute and his attempts falls on flat ears (ah, that’s a poor choice of words, her ears are very much pointed). As she methodically works her way to all his hair, she has him turn. As she’s cutting the front and Alistair is facing her, she tilts up his chin to examine her work, her hands lightly brushing the sides of his face. He’s debating whether or not he should kiss her ( _What makes a good moment for your first kiss with the woman you’re head over heels for?_ ) when her concentration suddenly breaks. She meets his eyes and give him a smile—his favorite and the one she only shows him. She lightly presses her hands on his face before reaching up and rearranging his hair, still humming.

Katriel brushes loose hair from Alistair’s shoulders, before sitting back and admiring her work. Alistair notices that her gaze travels farther down from his hair than strictly necessary, but she definitely doesn’t look displeased. And maybe he flexes a little more than strictly necessary as he stands and offers her a hand.

“So, how does it look?”

Katriel shakes her head as she stands, “A bit shorter than I meant to cut it, actually. No more rebel prince act for you.”

Something about how close they’re standing gives Alistair a jolt of courage, and he leans down to give Katriel a quick kiss on the cheek, before saying, “Thank you, Kat.”

She looks stunned, but in a good way. There’s a spring in Alistair’s step as he picks up his shirt and takes a few steps. Turning around, he asks, “Coming?” That seems to jolt Katriel out of her stupor, as she scrambles catch up with him, their hands brushing as they head back to camp.

**Author's Note:**

> no drafts we die like men
> 
> kat kind of adopts wynne as like a weird aunt/older sister relationship and she's a total shithead, but in a cute & fun way, so wynne is always a teeny bit suspicious of her. leliana and zevran are horrible gossips and always have the best intel, so they're definitely running an underground gambling ring. alistair is not overly self-conscious i don't think, but he IS an awkward chantry boy who doesn't know how to act around his crush, so, you know.
> 
> can you tell my love language is physical touch and that i'm obsessed with quiet intimate moments like this? i hope the tenderness comes through. its supposed to be tender as hell
> 
> comments and advice/criticism are always welcome, and thank you for reading!


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